The Dystopian Society
by Everlasting Faerie Light
Summary: The year is 2050 and England has become the most hated nation. To gain back his prestige, he makes a decision that will tear ALL of the nations apart. He attempts to make America a British posession once again. M for strong violence, yaoi, and lemon.
1. The Spanish Alliance

January 4th, 2050

Alfred F. Jones, America

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. My eyes were stinging with angry tears as I stormed furiously forward, my foot falls heavy and my body shaking. I couldn't see properly. I couldn't think properly. My insides were swirling fire…a swirling fire that I've felt quite a few times throughout my life. I try everything in my power to quench this fire, but sometimes, the only thing I can do is to let it out.

The sky was dark. The clouds hovered over me menacingly and the wind seemed to pick up with each step I took. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It just wasn't. I'm America, goddammit. I'm happy. I'm free. I'm the hero. I'm the good guy.

So why am I feeling such cruel hatred right now?

_That damn bastard doesn't know what's coming. He has NO right to do what he is trying to do. I won my independence from him, before. I sure as hell will do it again. _

_And this time, I'll shoot. _

_I will shoot him. Because I'm not weak. _

I just don't understand why he could be so cruel. How can he look me at me with those green eyes and tell me flat out that I will be reduced to nothing more than a sectionalized group of colonies? Just like old times? How can he work so hard to tear down everything I have built up? Fought for?

I am an individual country. I'm just as powerful as he is.

I should've known that he never fully understood that. I was still that rebellious and annoying British possession. He was just standing on the sidelines, thinking that once I cooled down and behaved like the good child he thought I was, he could just take me back under his grasps so that I could be nothing but a British colony again. A British colony that gave all of my natural resources and other shit to him so that he could use it for himself.

No.

No. No. NO.

I don't fucking CARE that he is now a declining power. I don't care that he needs to freaking ANNEX me for his own survival. I don't care if he is becoming the joke of the European Union, that his foreign relations are crumbling, that his economy is failing, and that other countries are invading more and more of his land.

He can't take me.

I will make sure of it.

And if he makes one wrong move...ONE move that hints at a real attempt to seize me, I will go over there and blast his head open.

In fact, I hope that the other nations take him apart piece by piece until he is nothing but a group of foreign colonies. Just like I was.

I needed to do something. I needed to make alliances…and quick. That shouldn't be too difficult since Britain has made himself the most hated nation. When word gets out that he's trying to gain power by making me a colony again, serious shit will go down.

And I will enjoy it.

I paused as I felt a rain drop hit the tip of my nose. Then another on my cheek…then another on my forehead.

Soon, the drops of water fell steadily from the sky. It was a morose scene and I shivered. I saw that I was walking in a wide open field. A vast stretch of prairie that seemed to soar onwards without any hesitation. The straw colored grass wavered like golden ocean waves against the wind, and the water kept coming down and down and down…

Just like it did that day many years ago.

I remembered how the island nation fell to his knees in surrender. I remembered the pain that was plastered on his face, the gun falling limply from his hand.

I am the hero.

My limbs started to tremble violently and my throat had gone dry. With a painful pang in my chest, I started to run swiftly, my feet ripping through the long straw colored grass. I didn't care where I ended up. The rain hit my face and my vision was blurred. I didn't know if I was going north, south, east, west, left, right, up, down…

_I won't let him take me. _

_I won't let myself feel sorry for him._

England used to be considered a father to me. Then, he told me to consider him my big brother.

_He is no brother of mine._

I finally faltered and opened my eyes. The rain had stopped. In fact, the sky was a strange shade of baby blue dotted with endless amounts of fluffy clouds. I gazed at the scene around me, taking deep shuddering breaths.

Where the fuck was I?

Definitely not in America, that's for sure.

The wheat colored plains were replaced with cobblestone streets and narrow, yet intricate alleyways. The buildings were tall and lined with shuttered windows that hung with various flowers. People bustled here and there, occasionally stopping at the little outdoor markets that dotted the sidelines.

I took a few steps forward.

Definitely somewhere in Europe.

I walked alongside a group of elderly women who looked to be in a very engaging conversation.

What the hell were they speaking? French? Italian? Finnish?

Ugh, I was never good with languages.

Then I heard a few familiar words being tossed around here and there.

"_Hola." "Adios." "Hermana."_

I was in Spain.

Okay…cool then…not the place I had in mind- _waaiiiittt a minute. _

_I am in Spain. _

_Spain has been trying so hard to take England's southern border. _

_What if I…assist him?_

I tore through the streets violently, not bothering to apologize as I knocked some aggravated citizens here and there. Okay, okay…where would I find Spain? Where would he be? What does he do for fun? Jeezes, I don't know. I'm not Romino or Romeo or whatever the fuck Italy's brother's name is.

I swallowed and shook my head to rid my head of any Revolutionary era thoughts. This was not the time to be thinking of a defeated England. He doesn't deserve pity, no matter how much he cries or begs or whines. He has to understand that I will do everything in my power to preserve my independence and if that means blasting his brains out, I will do just that.

Through my flustered thinking, I collided with something. Hard.

My glasses flew off and I stumbled backwards. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I bent to my knees and started to feel around for them. Damn my bad eyesight.

"America?"

I perked at the voice.

"Spain?" I asked, squinting my eyes to try and make out the blob that seemed to be hovering over me.

I felt something being jammed into my face, and immediately, my vision cleared. I quickly straightened my glasses and got to my feet to face a very confused looking Spain. His hair was messy and his eyes were narrowed in slight suspicion at me. In his arms were a huge basket of tomatoes.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his usually easy tone constrained with distress and bitterness. I sighed out loud. Ever since the economic crisis and England's failure to pay off the debts he owed to the rest of the European Union after his war against France in 2048, the nations have all failed to smile. Even Italy doesn't smile much anymore.

Now almost everyone wants England's blood. He's the reason why all the countries are going through a bit of an economic depression. Even the Asian nations were getting pissed as hell because they've relied on European support for resources ever since the Alliance of December 2032. But since England has done so much damage to all of Europe with his pathetic dance with France, the money has drained; the availability of resources have ceased; and the cash flow has halted.

I honestly don't give a flying batshit. Well, I sort of do. I do have my own personal engagements with the foreigners. But not to any extreme. But when England talks of taking me back as a freaking COLONY, then I will play dirty.

That stupid bastard.

"I need to talk to you," I stated, seriously.

Spain seemed to immediately understand as a light flickered in his eyes. He nodded and beckoned for me to follow him.

He led me down a deserted and dark alleyway crammed in between two buildings. None of the light seemed to be able to reach us.

I watched impatiently as the Spaniard placed the basket of tomatoes aside and turned to look back at me, an intense expression of determination present on his face.

"I know what you want, America. I've heard about England's plan to annex you," he stated blatantly.

"Y-you do?"

He nodded and shrugged slightly. "Si. I only knew that it would be a matter of time before you got involved in this dilemma. It's only getting worse. My people don't have money anymore. A lot of them aren't getting enough to eat. The nations are getting angrier and angrier, including the Asian ones. I'm sorry that North America has to be a part of this as well."

I didn't say anything. I was fuming again as I thought of England's face. My fists clenched and I started to take deep breaths.

"I know that you want to make an alliance with me so that we can both work together to push back England and take his southern border," Spain persisted, his eyes alight.

I glared at the Spaniard. "Well? What do you say?"

Spain gave a hollow laugh and responded, cocking his head lightly to the side, "That _bastardo _is the reason why my mighty empire declined. He undermined my navy and took away my glory back in 1588. My nation has never been the same since. I think it's about time that I gave him a taste of his own medicine."

I smiled darkly and nodded. "We will talk more about this later. I will try and talk to the other nations and see what they think, but we have to move fast. Even though his power is declining, the bastard has one hell of a militia. Plus, he has that really powerful alliance with Africa, Austrailia, and…"

I gulped.

Spain's breath hitched in understanding.

"_Russia."_

To be honest, nothing scared me more than that commie bastard. I will never forget the Cold War. Despite the fact that there was a lack of physical assault, it was one of the most terrifying experiences ever.

It just makes it worse that Russia is supporting England. Fucking 2029 Anglo-Rus Alliance.

Spain placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must hurry, Alfred. We have to prepare."

I knew he was right.

But despite my cold determination, I remembered the sobbing England who fell at my feet, sobbing. The England who took my hand and raised me as a child. The England who couldn't shoot me because he cared too much.

Those green eyes…once so warm and affectionate…

Now so cold and dead.

And I WILL NOT let him take me.


	2. The Anglo Italian Pact

January 7th, 2050

Feliciano Vargas, North Italy

My hands shook violently as I attempted to drain the pasta. I felt sick. For once in my life, pasta was the last thing I wanted. I don't even know why I'm making it. I pursed my lips together and looked at the bunched up string of noodles, fresh and uneaten. My hands were still shaking, beads of sweat were starting to form at my hairline, and I felt like I was going to vomit. I felt like my insides were flipping inside out and in different directions.

I dropped the pasta strainer, the noodles splattering all over the floor and ran out of the kitchen, my head pounding and my knees buckling. I collapsed on the couch and started to shudder violently. I'm getting sick again. It's been happening a lot lately; Germany usually comes and takes care of me.

I groaned and let my arm rest lazily over my eyes. Where was Germany? I really need him right now.

No. I promised myself I wouldn't bother him. He's been distressed with the whole England thing. Speaking of which, I'm really angry with England as well! Out of all the places in Europe he's damaged, he's messed mine up the most. I don't understand why he and big brother France had to fight a majority of the war on my soil.

What did I ever do to them? They're the reason why I'm so sick. And I will never get better until England pays back his debts! And that will never happen because he's a big stupid meanie-head! I never thought that I could ever dislike a nation as much as I do now. To add to that, Romano isn't feeling well either, but thankfully, he is nowhere near as bad as I am, as his area wasn't as damaged as mine was.

And what happens when he never EVER pays off the debts he owes me? I can't go on being like this forever. Everything will get worse than it already is and I'll…I'll….

No, I'm not going to think about that.

But…but…at all the world meetings…it's so bad! I don't like it one bit! Everyone is fighting and shouting. I wish everybody would just get along like we used to. Okay, we never actually all got along that well, but this is just really bad. It's not supposed to be like this! Maybe…maybe we can all just get through this. We survived both World Wars and we're all still friends. Russia and America threatened to destroy each other in their Cold War and they ended up all right.

A wave of nausea overtook me once again and I gagged. I squeezed my eyes shut and wished for my pain to go away. Some days, the sickness is manageable. I could do normal every day things. I can attend meetings, hang out with Germany (and Japan, sometimes), and make pasta! But other times, I can't even move. My strength is withered even more with the destruction of my country.

It makes me think of the fall of Grandpa Rome all over again.

The streets are ruined, buildings are destroyed, hungry and unemployed people…and I can't do anything to help them! I don't have enough pasta to feed all of them. Big brother France is really sorry and has given me some money and supplies. But it's not enough. What I really need is for England to pay for the hurt he has inflicted upon me and my people. If this continues, I don't even think Germany can help me anymore.

Through my embittered thoughts and uncontrollable shaking, I heard the click and creak of my door as it opened. The heavy footfalls made me realize that Germany was here. My heart swelled with relief that he was here. He was the only one who could actually make me feel better, after all. I mean it when I say that he really is my best friend.

"Italy! Vhere are you?" Germany's grating voice boomed. He sounded irritated. Then again, that's how he always sounded. But it's okay! I learned to get used to it.

I couldn't respond. I knew that if I attempted to yell back, my voice would either crack or I'd throw up. So I kept my lips pursed and my eyes squeezed shut, my body still convulsing with shivers. I heard his heavy footfalls approach the living room.

"If you don't answer me, I'm going to make you run twenty la-ITALY!"

I knew that he was now in the living room, looking at my helpless body curled up on the couch.

I opened my eyes and attempted to turn my head to look at him, but my vision was hazy and my head started to pound with movement, so I stopped midway, gritting my teeth violently.

"You look terrible!" Germany exclaimed, his voice thick with concern.

"V-Veh…I-I don't f-feel g-good..." I managed to choke out, despite my insanely parched throat. I kept my eyes closed and I attempted to control my shivering in front of Germany as to not scare him too much, but it didn't work.

I heard Germany's heavy sigh before a gentle, yet calloused hand found its way to my forehead. My body seemed to calm under the touch and my shivering was reduced to light shudders.

"You're really varm. I'll go get some medicine," Germany said with a soft, yet determined voice. He sounded extremely worn out. I felt really bad. I can't count how many times he has had to take care of me because I've been extremely ill. There were even times where he had to stay by my side for two days straight. He really is a great friend.

I felt his hand leave my forehead and heard his footsteps head toward the kitchen.

A few minutes later I heard the sound of his heavy footfalls approaching the couch once again. His hand rested on my cheek gently as he carefully turned my head so that I was facing upwards. I felt a cold wet towel being placed carefully across my forehead and I squeaked slightly out of surprise. I cringed as I felt the water drops spill down the sides of my head and into my hairline.

"Open your mouth, Italy," Germany said in a low voice.

I cringed. I didn't want to take the medicine! It tastes like England's scones mixed with rotten tomatoes.

"Open your mouth, dammit! And stop squirming," Germany demanded again, his voice constrained with irritation. I flinched and decided to oblige. He was already stressed out enough without me being sick all the time.

I felt the slimy liquid invade my mouth. I gagged, but I clamped my mouth shut and managed to swallow the abominable stuff. The extremely bittersweet stuff slithered down my throat and my nausea seemed to heighten with the crap now in my stomach.

A second later, I felt a cold glass being tipped against my lips and the taste of cold pear juice washed away the revolting taste of the medicine and immediately soothed my parched throat and the unpleasant gurgling of my stomach. My shuddering and pounding of my head subsided as I felt my breaths return to normal.

I exhaled loudly and opened my eyes. My body still felt extremely weak, but I no longer felt extremely sick. I turned my head slightly to look at Germany, careful as to not cause the cold rag on my forehead to slip off.

The blonde man looked exhausted and distressed, yet his blue eyes were locked on me with worry. I smiled at him in response. He is such a good friend. Ever since World War I, he's always looked after me. There was a period of time after World War II ended where he and I didn't get along to well, but he was still always there to save me and protect me. He may act all tough and unsentimental but I know that Germany is a big fluffy panda bear for real life.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked.

"Yes," I responded. "Thank you, Germany."

His tense shoulders visibly slackened, but he pinched the bridge of his nose in distress and said, closing his eyes, "You still sound really veak. I think I vill stay here for a vhile…"

"Veh, are you sure? You look really tired…" I remarked.

"Don't vorry about me, Italy. You're the one who's sick."

I huffed. "I'm sorry that you have to see me like this. Veh, I can't even make you pasta!"

Germany's lips twitched into a smile, but then he faltered once again. "I'm so sorry that it had to be you, Italy. You don't deserve this and that damn English bastard von't even pay for vhat he's done."

"You sound like Romano," I teased.

Germany chose to ignore this remark as he continued in an ominous tone, "Things are just getting vorse. Nobody is cooperating anymore and nobody knows vhat to do. And you have the vorst of the damages and I-"

He halted and closed his mouth. His expression was twisted in pain as he shook his head.

"What?" I asked.

"I-It's nothing," he responded gruffly.

"Germany…"

The blonde man closed his eyes and sighed, his face contorted with pain. I hated seeing him look so defeated. It made my insides clench and crumble. He finally spoke in a voice filled with…was that fear?

"…I'm scared that I'll lose you. You seem to be getting vorse every time and I don't know vhat I vould do if you..." he faltered, unable to finish his sentence. His cheeks were slightly pink and his eyes were fixated on his fingers.

My heart swelled as I reached out and grabbed his hand, causing the German man to freeze and look down at our intertwined hands.

"Veh, Ludwig," I said, using his human name. "Don't worry about me. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere."

He didn't look convinced for a moment, but after a few seconds, his face flickered and he relaxed. He looked at me straight in the face and smiled.

"I know," he almost whispered.

His voice caused unfamiliar shivers to travel down my spine. The look on his face was…different. He has never looked at me that way before. Yet, for some reason, I can't help but see some similarities there…those intense blue eyes that shimmered, that small almost innocent smile, that look of pure sincerity…

He almost looked exactly like Hol-

I shook my head as a lump formed in my throat.

No. It's just wishful thinking. _He _was gone. Big brother France killed him a long time ago.

I shook my head slightly before feeling as if a huge load of bricks were tugging at my eyes. Exhaustion wracked my body so suddenly that I was actually surprised. Veh, must be that medicine that Germany shoved down my throat. I yawned and felt my body float slightly as my eyes drooped shut.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

I felt a gentle hand gently stroke away strands of my hair from my eyes.

"Rest now, Feliciano." His voice was still set in that gentle tone that I wasn't quite used to. I actually found that I liked it. Especially when he addressed me by my human name. He doesn't do that often.

I squeezed his hand gently in return before feeling myself slip away into dreamless sleep.

My eyes fluttered open. They stung slightly and I squinted. I was staring at my white ceiling above me. I attempted to sit up, but found that I didn't have the strength to do so.

I then realized that I was holding somebody's hand. I turned my head to see a sleeping Germany, his hand still placed in mine and his head on my torso, his usually sleek blonde hair ruffled and disorganized. I couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the sight of him asleep.

The usual stern frown was completely absent, leaving nothing but an innocent almost child-like expression on his smooth face.

He looked so care-free.

Aww, he's so cute. I just want to snuggle with him.

But, I don't think that Germany would be too pleased to wake up and find me snuggling with him.

I carefully untangled my hand from his grip and placed my hand on my head, finding that the wet towel that Germany had placed had been removed.

I certainly felt a lot better. Almost normal. Except for the fact that I still felt extremely weak.

Maybe if I just rested here for a little while longer, I could get up soon. I would just have to be careful not to wake Germany when I moved. He's really scary when he's woken up!

My stomach grumbled loudly and I realized how hungry I was. Awww, if only I could move, I could go to the kitchen and make some pasta. I sighed loudly and stared at the ceiling blankly, letting my mind wander.

How am I going to handle this? I can't be sick forever. No…I WON'T be sick forever. Eventually, if this keeps going, I will…I will…

No. I don't want to fall like Grandpa Rome, or Hol-

I shook my head violently and looked away from the ceiling to stare at a sleeping Germany again. The weight of his head left a warm spot on my torso. He looked really uncomfortable!

I attempted to sit up again, and found that I could. I gently moved Germany's head as I got to my feet so that he was leaning against the couch. He grunted slightly from the shift, but he didn't wake up. I felt extremely light headed and unstable as I stood on my two feet, but after I closed my eyes for a second and took a few deep breaths, I felt fine. Still a bit sore and weak, but generally fine.

My stomach growled again. Time for pasta!

No wait… I turned my head to look back at Germany, who looked absolutely pitiful, leaning against the couch. I can't just leave him like that!

I sighed and walked over to the sleeping German.

I don't know how successful this is going to be, but I might as well try.

I placed my hands under his arms, bent my elbows, and with all my strength, heaved him upwards. I panted and my knees buckled under his weight.

_Dannazione! _He is heavy!

"Stop touching me you French bastard!" Germany uttered in a low growl before he hung his head limply and started to breath evenly again. I chuckled slightly.

Finally, I managed to get him on the couch. He lay there limply, his face still untroubled and smooth. I couldn't help but just stare at him. He must be really tired to look so careless in his slumber. He was usually a light sleeper who woke up at the crack of dawn to train. And when he WAS sleeping, he still had that angry scowl on his face.

I turned my back on him and walked upstairs to grab a spare blanket from my closet. I bundled it in my arms and walked back downstairs and to the couch. I laid it gently across Germany's body, careful not to cover his face.

There. Now I can make my pasta!

I turned around to head toward the kitchen again when there was a knock at my door.

_Veh, who could it be? _

I sighed. I guess the pasta would have to wait a few more minutes.

I made my way to the front door, hoping that I didn't look to bad. I opened the door only to see England standing there, a fierce look of determination present on his face. His green eyes were flashing and his blonde hair looked even more disheveled than ever.

I immediately stiffened and an unfamiliar feeling of anger shot through me. I don't normally feel anger. I leave that to Romano. I like to be nice to everybody!

But not this time.

I let myself glare at the Island Nation. He just stared back at me.

Here in front of me was the insufferable man who had made me sick, who had hurt my land and people.

"Veh, what do you want?" I spat.

England looked slightly taken aback by my outburst, but he quickly recovered. That's when I realized that he looked…desperate.

Despite his façade of determination, his green eyes were bleak and his face was hiding pain and fear. No! No! I don't like this! Not at all. How can I be mad at him when he's in so much pain? I can never turn down someone who is in pain!

"I need to talk to you," he remarked in a fierce voice. I realized that his voice cracked and judging by his extremely pale skin and circles under his eyes, he was probably sick as well.

Well, no wonder. Almost every nation has been trying to invade him as of late. No doubt destroying as much of his hand as they could reach.

I sighed and let my anger dissolve. I nodded and ushered him in.

England stepped over the threshold, avoiding my eyes. I led him into the living room, where the couch was still occupied by an unmoving Germany.

England's gaze fixed on the sleeping Aryan and a small shadow of a smirk crossed his face. "He looks rather peaceful when he's sleeping, doesn't he?"

"Si," I responded half-heartedly.

We were silent for a few moments before I decided to speak again, getting a bit impatient.

"Why do you need to speak with me?"

England sighed and looked down at his feet, a look of pain crossing his face. He closed his eyes for a moment, before saying in a low voice, "I know that this is not the time to ask you for a favor. Especially after everything I've done to you…but, I need your help."

I stared at him.

He needs _my _help? He has the nerve to ask me for his help? How can I offer him my help when he has weakened me so much?

But I didn't say a word. I just looked at how defeated he looked, how his usual pompous manner has disappeared, only to be replaced with an aura of complete dread.

"If you agree to help me, I will do everything in my power to help you rebuild your country. In fact, I will tell Russia to send some food and other supplies to the people here. And when I have raised enough money, I will use some of it to pay for the damages I have caused."

Was he…was he offering to help me? To support my people and help provide for them? To fix the damages so that I won't be sick anymore? How can I reject an offer like that?

But… why me? Why can't he offer to help the other nations? It would solve this whole dilemma and he wouldn't be hurting himself anymore.

"Why me? Why not everyone else?" I asked in a quiet voice.

"I can't! I just can't, Italy! I'll never be able to fulfill all of their needs. I know that I brought this upon myself, but the costs would cause me to go completely bankrupt even if I were well off. Russia and the Baltics are doing everything they can for me, but they have their own countries to provide for as well. It doesn't help that every damn nation is so persistent to invade my territory and destroy everything they could get their hands on! I have no choice! I need more help!"

England looked like he was on the verge of tears. He was shaking and his face was tormented. I felt really bad. But what can I offer him? Why would he seek out my help? I'm just as damaged as he is. If it weren't for Germany….

"Veh, I have nothing to offer you. I'm just as sick as you are," I responded.

England shook his head violently, his face set in irritation. "I'm not asking you for monetary support. I'm asking for you to side with me in this, to help me do what I need to do. You see…I need to annex America."

Dead silence.

No way.

_Merda!_

How can he just decide to conquer a fellow nation like that? Especially one like America?

"England…." I started uneasily.

He's crazy! America is NOT going to let this happen. He was very persistent with winning his independence from England a long time ago, and he won. America will be very angry when he hears that England is trying to take him back under his clutches.

Plus, does England even have the strength to take a vast country like America by force? America was healthy and untouched. On the contrary, England was a wreck.

"I have no choice. I need to make him my colony again. There is no way I can pay off the debts. I know that it sounds mad, but I am willing to do anything to rebuild my country. If we plan this out, I think that we can succeed. I don't want a full out war, but I at this point, I am willing to resort to it. I've got Russia already assembling his army, and…and…everybody's terrified of him anyways. Plus, with some training, I can get some of the African nations to contribute as well…I've also got the Middle East on my side already…I just need a few willing European nations to contribute. I know that I've caused a lot of damage to you and your brother, but you two are the only ones who haven't tried invading my country. And if you agree, you have my word that I will pay for the damages I have caused. In fact, I will give you some of the money I have now to you and your brother."

He looked delirious. Desperate. Defeated. Sick.

I couldn't believe this. Yes, I wanted my country to be rebuilt and the offer was extremely tempting. With a little extra boost of money and the other countries allied with England donating Romano and I supplies, we would definitely be able to find our strength a repair Italy.

But something bothered me.

How can England so willingly _invade _America? Weren't the two extremely close? I know that the two aren't always on the best of terms, but I always had this feeling that there was something intimately special between them. I knew that England raised America and that the he was torn up over losing him. I knew that America liked to taunt him, but if something ever happened to England, America would be devastated.

It's like if I decided to invade Germany. It would be the ultimate betrayal.

Am I wrong about it all?

"How can you do this to him?" I whispered. "America…I thought that you…"

England looked down and I could see the tear travel down his cheek.

His shoulders were shaking; I knew that this was tearing him inside and out.

"I-I have no choice. He's the only one who can save me."

"Veh, can't you just ask him for help?" I asked.

He shook his head. "It wouldn't be enough."

"But, what if his resistance is too great?"

His face went blank and his eyes became extremely cold. I shivered slightly at his stiff demeanor. He looked at me straight in the eyes and answered in a low voice…

"Then I will have to kill him."

I closed my eyes and sighed.

How can I agree to this? This doesn't feel right at all.

But…But…if I don't take the opportunity to help MY own country, then I may not get another chance. If I don't get another chance, I will die. I will become sicker and sicker and my nation will collapse. Just like Grandpa Rome. What will happen then? What will happen to Romano? Will he die too?

I clenched my fists before opening my eyes, putting barriers between my own morals and my duty.

I will follow Machiavelli's advice. He did come from my country after all.

"Veh, I accept."


	3. The Belarusian Revolt

January 18th, 2050

Natalia Arlovskaya, Belarus

I am sick and tired of it all. The running away, the rejection, the heartbreak. Can't he see that all I want is for him to be happy? Apparently, I never do a good enough job for that. It doesn't make any sense! He always says that he wants everyone to become one with him. If he hasn't noticed, I'm the only one who is actually willing to take that offer and he flees like a rabbit!

I know that my brother isn't perfect. I know that despite what everyone thinks of him, he's the most insecure of all the nations I know. Yes, even more so than those pathetic Baltics. My dear brother is terrified of being alone. And yet, that's what he's been all his life. Alone. I want to try and fix that. I really do. I want to become one with him, dammit! But he just keeps pushing me away!

Doesn't he see that he has no one left? Our older sister left to become friends with the European Union a long time ago and she doesn't associate with us anymore. All of the other high-power nations fear or despise him. The Baltics are here against their freewill. All of the alliances my brother is involved in are forced with no background of common ground or genuine friendship.

But I'm here. I've always been here! I love my brother so much. I'm the one thing he has left and he takes me for granted. And you know what? I'm about finished with it all. Let's see how he deals with being truly alone once and for all. What if I pulled a Yekaterina and decided to become friends with the EU? What if I ran away and strengthened my relations with someone like…oh I don't know…America?

Would he even notice my absence? Of course he would!

My brother needs me now more than ever. He's been working hard to help that fucking England for reasons I do not understand. I don't even know why he signed that alliance in 2029. But since he's decided to become involved in pesky western affairs, he needs someone to assist him. He can't just keep working alone like this. He needs to seek out guidance and advice from other nations. Nations like me. If he united with me, then I would be able to offer him my advice and actually have a say in foreign affairs that he's gotten himself involved in.

But no. He works alone. He doesn't "cooperate." He does everything by himself and bosses everyone else around.

Except for me. He's too busy running around to actually give me orders.

But that doesn't mean I'm not powerless.

I rely on my big brother for everything, especially for my country. Without him, I wouldn't be able to survive. So why can't he just take me?

Yes, I will admit that I'm practically powerless. But only for the sake of my brother! I will never EVER admit it to anyone else!

The house was cold and empty and the snow frosted over the windows, making it impossible to see anything outside. The fire crackled in the fireplace and I just sat at the table, waiting. Waiting for what? For my brother to return of course! He said that he needed to run off somewhere very quick and that he'd be back in time for dinner.

It's been an hour and he hasn't returned.

The dinner I had made is sitting on the table in front of me, cold. Not one bite was taken.

My insides clenched and I felt my throat burn. I knew that he had rejected me yet again. But what did I expect? I don't even know why I keep doing this. Maybe I had fooled myself into thinking that he would love me one day if I kept trying. Maybe I was under the impression that he actually CARED for me. I don't even know anymore.

I looked back down at the cold plate of _draniki _in front of me and gulped. The air was still around me and I felt the blood in my veins boil. I can't do this anymore. I just can't. I don't care what my boss tells me. I don't care if he wants me to remain under my brother's protection.

He's broken my heart to many times.

And I've had enough.

Every single FUCKING time he's run away…

Every time…

The plate of draniki went crashing to the floor. The plate shattered against the harsh impact of the stone floor. The table cloth was next as I yanked it violently. The various plates of foot went flying across the room, earsplitting shatters echoing throughout the small confined space. The goblets clattered, and the vodka bottles split open, the alcoholic drink splashing everywhere.

I let out a scream as I watched it all just break. It was satisfying. It was reflective. Enlightening. It resembled how I felt inside to such an extent that I was mesmerized. I breathed in and out heavily, regarding the mess I had made.

This is it.

The end.

I heard the door creak open and on instinct, I swiftly grabbed the dagger from up my sleeve and hurled it across the room toward the door with a huge animalistic growl. The dagger stuck into the wooden frame of the door, barely missing the face of a very frightened looking Lithuania.

At the sight of him, my blood started to boil once again and all I saw was red.

I don't want to look at _that fucking spineless Baltic _right now. I don't even want to see anyone familiar.

Not even my own beloved brother.

No, I want something new. I need to get away.

I don't want to be a member of this damned family anymore.

"O-Oh, Miss. Belarus. Forgive me," Lithuania stuttered, a small and hesitant smile forming on his face.

"_Get out," _I snarled with as much venom as I could muster.

"W-Wha-"

"GET OUT!" I screamed.

The pathetic Baltic stared at me for a few seconds longer with wide eyes before turning around and slamming the door shut, leaving me alone.

I took another breath.

Fuck this. I walked over to the door frame and retrieved my knife.

I'm not cleaning this up.

My _dear _brother can do it himself. Or better yet, get the Baltic trio to do it. Plus, he's too much of a coward to actually order me to do anything.

I fled to my room and slammed the door shut. I walked over to my small bed and stared at nothing in particular, my mind racing.

What happens now? Do I leave?

I have never left my brother before. He's the only home I've ever had. I have never attempted to befriend other nations before. I always believed that my brother was the only one I wanted and needed. But obviously, he doesn't want me.

He's officially lost me.

And when he cries about being all alone, I'll remind him that he's brought this on himself.

But what do I do? Who do I go to first?

I don't want to really run off to the members of the European Union. My sister and her oversized breasts have already bounced around in that department.

Running to Australia or New Zealand is just uneventful, especially since the two are actually teaming up with my brother to aid England in his pathetic rendez-vous that will probably cause the next world war.

No, I needed to do something dramatic.

I will go to America.

Yes, that's it. I'll form an alliance with America. It's the ultimate betrayal.

I hear that England is doing his best to try and annex America again and my brother is trying to help him.

I'll just join the opposing side. That'll teach my brother what happens when you push away the ones who love you. Yes, I'll find myself involved in stupid Western affairs, but it'll be worth it.

I smirked at the thought. The burger-eating moron will definitely take all the help that he can get and if I, the only nation that can actually instill some form of fear in Russia, voluntarily offer my assistance, he'll gladly take it.

"I wonder what happened here…"

I heard the eerily calm voice of my brother resonate from the kitchen. I could hear the dark undertone that laced with it. It sent chills of pleasure down my spine.

I heard his footfalls as he stalked the kitchen. He was probably going to punish the Baltics for this. I couldn't help but snigger at the thought.

I stood up from my bed and looked down at my mattress, which was covered in a thick white blanket. I tore it off and chucked it across the room. I then proceeded to hoist my mattress and toss it aside. Then the wooden bed frame, which splintered at the impact of hitting the wall. I knocked my dresser over and tossed all of the small figurines that my brother had given me over the years to the side, watching with satisfaction as they shattered. I grabbed one of the figurines and chucked it at the mirror that hung on the opposite wall. Both shattered and I breathed heavily as the shards of glass fell onto the floor.

I then ran to my closet, yanked the door off its hinge and tore away at the clothes, trying to make as big of a mess as I could. I wanted my exit to leave a mark. I wanted my brother to understand my point.

I then grabbed a silver pistol that lay in the back of the closet. I grabbed it and checked to see if it was loaded. With a small smile, I realized that it was. I placed it in my dress pocket and waited.

A split second later, the door burst open.

My brother stood at the foot of my door, his platinum blonde hair disheveled. His snow white cheeks were a bit red from being out in the snow, and his amethyst colored eyes were wide as he stared at me, standing in the midst of the wreck that was my room.

I glared at him. I allowed myself to actually glare at him.

He flinched in response and immediately looked away. His face contorted in fear as he choked out, "Natalia…what…"

I grabbed the gun from my dress pocket and pointed it at him, my finger on the trigger. I made sure to aim directly at his heart. I held still and waited for his response.

He froze and just stared at me. I smirked at his expression.

He opened his mouth and closed it.

"Well, spit it out," I snapped. He flinched again.

"W-What has g-gotten into you?" he asked.

I mimed pulling the trigger and my brother immediately cringed. I gave a small chuckle.

"What has gotten into me? What do you think, big brother?" I cooed, batting my eyelashes mockingly at him.

"N-Natali-" he choked out.

"I'm done," I spat, changing my tone. "You should be fucking happy shouldn't you be? I'm finally leaving. I know that's what you wanted. So if you make one move to stop me, I will shoot."

Ivan's amethyst eyes widened and shimmered. His face flashed with…was that pain I just saw? He took a step forward and said, "N-No, Natalia…"

I pulled the trigger. But I didn't aim it at him. I aimed it right above his left shoulder, where it hit a glass paned photograph of me, my older sister, and Ivan. The glass shattered and the picture fell to the ground. Ivan flinched again, his expression comparable to that of a crying child's.

He straightened up again and stared at me, panicked.

"You c-can't leave, Nattie. I-I won't let you," he tried, his voice shaking. He took another step forward and my arms lowered significantly as I felt my heart swell at the sight of him. His big glimmering and pain stricken eyes, his slumping shoulders…

He knew the inevitable.

He was going to be alone.

For real this time.

And he couldn't take it.

I raised the gun again and aimed it straight at him.

"Don't call me Nattie," I spat. "Don't even call me Natalia anymore. It's Belarus to you."

He took a step back, looking as if he had just been wounded. "No…Natalia, you c-can't just leave me here…"

I charged forward swiftly and reached up to press the gun against the flesh of his cheek. He froze, but I could feel his body trembling violently. I smirked.

This is the day where I, Natalia Arlovskaya, will willingly reject my brother for the first time.

"My dear brother, how I love you so," I cooed mockingly. "But we all need to grow up and learn our lessons right? Is the big bad Ivan Braginski so afraid of being alone? Well, grow up and face your fears."

He was still trembling.

I sneered. "Don't expect to see me enter under this roof ever again, brother. This is the last time I'll regard you as my brother, and this is the last time I am Natalia Arlovskaya. You, Ivan Braginski, are dead to me, just as I am dead to you. From now on, if I see you, you will be Russia and I will be Belarus."

I put pressure on the gun, digging it deeper into his cheek. Nevertheless, he turned his head to look at me and I saw his eyes. They were a liquid dark violet color, condensed with fear and pain. I could see it in his pale face that he knew that he was officially alone now.

"Why, _sestra_?" His voice was rough and I gulped. This was it. The last time I would ever hear him address me as anything that shows significance to his life. I looked straight into his eyes.

"I'll see you on the battlefield, big brother."

With that I withdrew the gun, pushed past him, and ran out the door, greeting the cold harsh snow that immediately bit at my cheeks. I gritted my teeth and kept running forward, not daring myself to look forward.

I did it.

I left him. For good.

Now I just had to get out of here. I had to flee to America and establish an alliance with him. Then it will be set in stone. I'll find a place to stay there and offer my services to the war cause. I'll inform my boss of my decisions and ask for him to block off any foreign interaction with Russia and the other Baltics. I'll transfer my dependency to America and the other members of the European Union engaged in the anti-British campaign and in return, I'll do my best to cooperate with them.

I closed my eyes and paused, taking a deep breath, my mind racing.

I have never made such a big decision in my life.

I know that my people will suffer for it. They'll be subject to invasion from Russia. There'll be revolts and wars. But when I get the Western nations on my side, I think I can stand a chance. I'll ask the boss to start assembling the military.

But I have to move. And quickly.

I prayed to no one in particular that this would actually work. I will admit that I'm making a rash decision here. I've never really interacted with the other nations. They don't necessarily see me as a reliable friend. In fact, I have a feeling that they're just as terrified of me as they are of Ivan.

I'll just have to see, will I? I grimly wondered how long my country would last against the Russians before it fell. I hoped that it would be enough time for me to enforce my point.

Enough for Ivan to realize that he IS alone.

So I moved my feet again and began to run.

It's time to take action.

Winters in America were extremely mild compared to the _snieznaja bura_ back East. The sky was generally a bright baby blue, and though the air was cold, it didn't bite at my limbs like angry snakes. The streets of Washington DC were coated with piles of fallen snow and the Washington monument glittered against the sky. I crinkled my nose. It's been a long time since I've come to America. The last time I was here, the burger eating moron tried to force me to eat that greasy _nazounik_ he calls food.

I walked forward among the gaggle of annoying residents.

Goddamit, there were tourists everywhere! How come America got so many tourists? What's so great about it anyways?

I heard a mixture of languages being used all around me. English, Korean, Chinese, French, Spanish, Japanese, German, Italian, and yes…even Russian and Belarusian. I scowled at anyone who dared look my way. Upon seeing me, they immediately looked away in fear, careful to avoid my eyes and walk swiftly away.

Everyone knew a nation when they saw one. And everyone also knew the difference between a friendly nation and a dangerous nation.

I marched down the streets, trying to wrack my brain to remember where America lived. I think it was somewhere near the White House. Or was it the Lincoln memorial? I growled in frustration. I guess I would need to ask for instructions.

How humiliating.

I walked up to a tall figure with blonde hair and tapped the person on the shoulder.

"Excuse me," I said, putting on my sweet English voice, "I was wondering if you knew where Mister America lived…"

The figure turned around and I almost snarled. Of course.

It was France.

The fucking pervert.

"Honhonhonhon. Mon cher, I will indeed help you een more ways zen one…AHHHH! O-Oh…Belarus…"

His usual facial expression shifted from flirtatious to horrified in the fraction of about point five seconds.

I shot him my nastiest look and crossed my arms.

"You were saying?" I said in a low and dangerous voice.

His eyes clouded with fear and his face grew pale. "O-Oh…I was just saying…how…l-lovely you look, Belarus."

I just rolled my eyes and plowed on, tapping my foot. "Well? Where does America live?"

He eyed me suspiciously, his eyes travelling up and down my body…as if he were scanning me intensely for any hidden weapons…

…Or he was just undressing me with his eyes. It would not be the first time.

"Why do you want to veeseet America?" the Frenchman asked.

"I have some business I need to settle with him," I stated.

I knew that he wouldn't trust me. No one trusts me. Everyone always think that I have a double agenda, that when your back is turned, I'll plunge a knife into you without hesitation.

Well…they're not completely wrong.

But not this time.

"I weel take you zere," France said.

I wanted to protest, to yell, to strangle the stupid man, but I knew that at this point, it wouldn't get me anywhere. Plus, I really needed to see America and someone was offering to take me to see him.

"Fine," I spat.

I walked side by side with him, keeping my eye steadily on him. He didn't want to walk ahead of me, I could tell. Whenever he took a few steps ahead, he would hold back. I smirked at this.

You can never be too cautious.

Finally, after a few turns, we stopped in front of a medium sized building not far from the Lincoln Memorial. It was white and modern looking with average sized windows and huge wooden doors. I frowned. What an odd place to live. It looked so out of place in comparison to the rest of the city.

France knocked steadily on the door, his expression still that of fear as he determinedly avoided my eyes.

After a few seconds, the door swung open and of course…there was America with a huge smile plastered on his face. I scowled at him. He looked as stupid as ever with those tacky glasses.

"Yo, what's up France? I was wondering when you'd show-" he faltered as his eyes landed on me. I glared back in response. His face became hard as his blue eyes skewered mine.

"Belarus," he said in a dark voice.

"America," I sneered back.

"What the hell are you doing in my country? Doesn't your _big brother_ need you back home?"

"I have some business to take care of with you. It shouldn't take too much of your _precious _time," I sneered, gritting my teeth and clenching my fists.

France stood there, looking extremely uncomfortable.

America kept glaring at me, but then he finally spoke, "Fine. You can come in. France, just wait out here."

"_Oui," _France replied in a somewhat relieved voice.

America widened the door and I stepped over the threshold, brushing past him roughly. He closed the door behind me and locked it. The interior was bigger than I thought it would be. The walls were littered with pictures, various renditions of American flags, movie posters, and other unmentionable objects. The light in the room was rather dim and the air smelt slightly like a mix between alcohol and hamburgers. I wrinkled my nose.

I heard a click behind me. Shit, I should've known that this would happen.

I spun around to see America, blocking the door, his eyes dark as he pointed his gun straight at me.

I sighed and crossed my arms.

"Alright you little conniving bitch, why are you _here? _Did your dear brother send you over here to assassinate me? To capture me? Well, let me tell you something. It's not going to work because I'm the hero and the hero NEVER gets captured…"

He is the biggest_ prydurak_ I have ever had the misfortune to meet. How can someone as idiotic as this man in front of me actually function as a prosperous nation?

"Just shut up," I snapped. "Let me explain myself."

"Go on," he demanded, the gun still aimed at my face.

I smirked and raised both of my hands up. "I'm not working for my brother anymore."

"W-What?"

"I've revolted. I ran away. I'm here because I want to help you and your other allies in your campaign against England. If I were you, I would accept because even if my brother doesn't realize it, my departure will weaken him," I snapped.

He just stared at me, the gun still pointed at me.

"_Prove it," _he snarled.

I withdrew the gun from my pocket, unloaded it quickly, and tossed both the gun and round to the ground. I then withdrew my knife from up my sleeve and tossed it in the small pile as well. I held my hands up and stared defiantly at America.

"I've just unarmed myself. Is that enough for you? If you don't believe me, go ahead. Shoot. I won't do anything about it. I swear to you," I said forcefully, keeping my eyes on the American nation in front of me.

After about a minute of just staring at me, he slowly lowered the gun. He looked confused, yet he still sported that defensive look.

"I thought you loved your brother. Like…_loved _him, if you know what I mean…" he began.

"Yes. I know what you mean! I'm not stupid," I snapped. "But that doesn't matter anymore. I've had enough of him. I've come to terms to the fact that he'll never accept me. So I decided to turn against him. And now I'm offering you my help to defeat both England and my brother. If I were you, I wouldn't reject this offer. I'm risking the existence of my country for this. Also, I've grown up with my brother. I know him better than anyone else and I know how to compete with him militarily. If you accept what I am offering, then my army will be under your jurisdiction and they will fight for you. I will also stay here and advise you. In return, I just need you and your allies to offer protective support to my country against my brother, as well as direct goods and product exchange. I will ensure that my country sells your products as long as you ensure that my products will sell in yours."

I took a deep breath and waited for his response, my heartbeat picking up. This was the inevitable moment. The moment where I may completely betray my brother.

America eyed me skeptically before he said, "Fine. I accept. I will allow you to become part of the alliance. BUT I still don't trust you. I need to do some more research on this to make sure you're telling the absolute truth. Until then, you will be under strict surveillance. Are you okay with that?"

I smirked. "Fine."

His lips twitched into a smirk as well as he held out his hand. "Let's shake on it."

I took his hand. With that small handshake, I knew that there was no turning back now.

I am now a member of the American anti-Anglo-Russian alliance. 


	4. The Rescue of Greece

January 29th, 2050

Heracles Karpusi, Greece

I can't sleep anymore. I miss those blissful days where I could just lie down anywhere, close my eyes, and float away without a care in the world. It's taken me a long time to realize that those days are over. But after the economic crisis and revolts that occurred around forty years ago, I haven't had one peaceful slumber.

I thought things were getting better. As time passed and all of Europe started to heal again, I allowed myself to hope. Then my cares started to dissipate once again and I could just…lie down. But it was too quick. Everything happened to fast and before I knew it, I was thrown into the mix again.

I don't want to take any part in this. England's battles have never been my problem. But when he cut off my access to other resources and starved my nation out, I couldn't just lie down and sleep. Now, the economy is in the tank once more. I've worked so hard to heal from the chaos of 2011, and everything has been ruined by one rash war between two western nations I have no concern for.

And they have no concern for me either. None of the bigger powers ever really pay attention to me and I'm usually okay with that. During the times where I am actually required to attend a conference, I just sleep because I know nothing will get done. They always just end up yelling and fighting. So I just fight my own battles and deal with the fact that Turkey is an asshole. More so than before, as well.

I can't do anything to help my nation. I'm too weak. Everything is in ruins and I can't even assemble the army to try and get back at England. Not without help. And has anyone come to help me at all? No. Not even…not even Japan.

I haven't seen him in such a long time it seems. But it's alright, I guess. He has his own things to deal with and I have my own. He is an important power with more influence than I'll ever have.

Now that I'm this helpless, Turkey has taken it upon himself to attempt to invade my lands. I never thought that it would come to this again. I thought that we were over this. I worked so hard in the nineteenth century to earn my damn independence from the masked motherfucker. But I guess he was just waiting patiently for the right time to take me back. And there is little I can do about it.

He has succumbed to guerilla tactics and these small vicious attacks have further weakened me. I don't think I can take this anymore. It makes me sad really. Turkey and I used to be good friends. There were times where I could tell him my deepest and darkest secrets…when I could rely on his advice and laugh with him and joke with him…

But those days are just distant memories now. Memories I wish I could forget so that it'd be easier to fight him.

I sighed and shifted my legs slightly. The air around me was colder than usual and it was…so quiet. Way to quiet. I usually liked the quiet, but it was usually accompanied with the distant sound of civilization, or the sound of chirping birds.

But there's nothing.

And I don't like it.

I don't like a lot of things these days.

I carefully laid my head down on the soft earth, surrounded by the ancient ruins of my mother's ancient civilization. This is the only place I feel safe, and yet, even its majesty cannot choke out the bitter pain that resides in my body. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to erase my mind and to find that sleep I'm in desperate need of…but to no avail. I just can't do it anymore.

Something tickled my cheeks gently and I crinkled my nose as a reaction. I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was the thick fur of one of my black cats. She purred gently as she stroked my face. I smiled weakly and forced myself to sit up again. I gently reached out and grabbed the cat. She was beautiful. Her big amber eyes stared up at me innocently and her small pink nose stood out against her ebony coat. I sighed and stroked her, my fingers running from her head down to her tail.

I breathed in the cold air, letting the icy feeling fill my lungs.

"I guess…it's just you and me…cat…" I whispered. My voice sounded strange against the silence. I held the cat close to my chest and looked around. The looming pillars and crumbling stone stood ominously above me, dark and cold against the thick air.

My shoulders slumped as I realized how desolate this place really was. Why do I find this place so special to me? It's nothing but a pile of rubble, the memories of the once flourishing civilization fading away day by day. My mother is gone. She fell a long time ago and nothing can bring her back.

It's a strange thing really, to be telling myself that. The thought had briefly crossed my mind a few times throughout the years, but I never let myself think them. But in a time like this, the fact seems to strike with full force.

The cat gave a tiny meow before she gently licked my cheek. I couldn't help but smile at this. I really love cats. Yet, just like everything else, they don't seem to be around that much anymore. I'll see a few of them here and there, but not like before.

I stared off into the horizon and started to tremble. I didn't understand why, but my limbs were shaking uncontrollably and my head started to pound. I bit my lip to suppress a painful groan as I felt my stomach twist up into knots. I quickly set the cat back down on the ground, where she quickly slinked off and disappeared.

Something's happening to me….

I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my fists.

Is this what dying feels like? What the hell is going on? I don't understand…

I've felt this only a few times before…

Something must be happening to my country. At the thought, dread and panic seized me and my chest constricted violently. I attempted to take longer breaths, but they were choppy and shallow. They reverberated violently against my ears and my heart seemed to be speeding up at a dangerous pace…

"Give it up, you hopeless bastard. You know you can't win."

That voice. Shit…he's here.

I forced my eyes to open and saw Turkey hovering over me. His leering smile caused my blood to boil. His beady eyes flashed dangerously behind his mask. From my pitiful position…he looked taller, mightier, stronger…

Stronger than I could ever be.

No…NO! I can't let this happen! I've worked so hard to keep my country independent, to keep Turkey out…

Yet…it all seemed inevitable.

In his hand was a long sword that glinted dangerously at me. I gulped and dug my nails into the palms of my hand. I felt so sick…I couldn't fight him…

Is this the end of me?

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.

He gave a mirthless cruel laugh and said in a sadistic voice, "You're finished, my friend. England has screwed you over. Your nation has been degrading for a long time and I'm just here to finish the job. "

I couldn't say anything. I just stared up at him, taking in his brown hair, his tanned skin, his face…so full of hatred and antipathy…

This was the man who helped me with so much. The man I used to rely on for help. We were each other's rock. He knows more about me than any other person in the world, nation or human. I guess he can use that to his advantage. And it hurts.

Especially seeing him standing here, all too willing to kill me…to destroy the foundations of my nation and claim it for himself.

Would he have any guilt if he had officially ended me? If I cease to exist because of his hand, would he ever regret his choices? Would he ever reflect upon the precious years before my revolt? Or does that not matter to him anymore?

I swallowed and finally choked out in a small voice, "Fine, then."

"What?" he spat.

"Fine. Strike me…with your sword…and kill me. It's…what you want, right?" I asked.

He stood there, frozen, staring at me with a blank expression.

I shrugged and attempted to smile up at him. "What are you waiting for? I'm right here…in front of you, aren't I? I prefer it to be painless if…you don't mind. Just a…swift decapitation would be fine…"

Turkey stepped back a few steps, his expression flickering between anger and shock. His hands were shaking as he spluttered, "Y-You aren't going t-to fight me? You're giving up just like that? You're pathetic! Stand up like a true nation and face me!"

I just smiled bitterly up at him. I felt so sick…I would never be able to win if I fought him.

Maybe…maybe it's for the best at this point.

Maybe it really is my time to dissolve. I mean, what have I really contributed as a nation? All of the memorable things from Greece came from my mother's ancient civilization. I really haven't done much. I guess I'm just not meant to be a nation. Even so, I still don't want to go down without some sort of resistance.

"You want to fight?" I asked, my lips curling up.

He seemed taken aback for another second before he responded, "W-Wha- Of course I want to fight!"

"Why? You know… that you'll …win," I stated as simply as I could, despite my increasingly labored breathing. I realized that my chest was on fire. I was going to pass out any second and suffocate. I would die even before Turkey swung his sword.

I forced myself to stare up into the other nation's angry face. I saw it. A falter. And I knew why.

Even Sadiq hesitated at the thought of ending the life of another nation…especially a nation he had spent so much time with. He had raised me, he had taught me, he had cherished me, he had fought me, he had hurt me, he had embraced me…

How could he just end it right here?

Did I want to die? Have I really given up?

Before he could respond, he was tossed aside. Almost carelessly. I watched in shock as he went flying off to the side, landing with a large crash on the dirt ground, his head barely missing collision with stone.

Standing before me was Japan. My breath was momentarily taken away as I saw his calm, yet serious face. His dark eyes were on fire as he drew his sword, his pose in the defensive, staring at Turkey, who was a helpless crumple on the floor.

I felt another stab of pain pierce my chest. Yet, I couldn't fight the small smile that crept on my lips.

If I was going to die, then I would be okay with it if the last thing I saw was Japan saving my ass. There was something about the nation that always left me breathless. I can't really place it. That sharp and mesmerizing grace, those dark eyes, that calm demeanor, that quiet sense of humor…

Turkey groaned slightly, but otherwise, he remained motionless.

Japan turned to look at me, his face softening.

"Greece-san…" he started in a quiet voice.

"Japan…" I breathed out, my chest constricting once more.

He closed his eyes for a second before approaching me. For a man of his small size, he was very strong. He managed to put both of his hands under my arms and hoisted me up. I did my best to support myself, but my legs felt like rubber and every other part of my body was on fire…

I felt his hot breath in my ear. "We are getting out of here."

Everything was swirling around me violently. I smiled. "Japan…"

"We can't go to my house. It's under attack. China has taken England-san's side, and his first move was to seize my place."

"Japan…I…" I choked out.

"We're going to America's."

"It doesn't matter," I breathed out. "I'm dying anyways. I've b-been dying for a w-while now. My economy…for forty years now…"

Japan set me down gently and turned to face me. I looked up into his eyes as he gently placed a hand on my cheek. His touch seemed to send a strange wave of strength through me. I shuddered.

"It matters, Greece-san. You're a nation as well. You're a part of this just as everyone else is," he said before he carefully withdrew his hand from my cheek and hoisted me up again. I worked hard to walk by his side, but my whole body was burning. I was going to pass out. I felt the black spots creep up on me, shrouding my vision…

Then, there was a cry of horror, a slam, and I felt myself being thrown to the ground. The collision between my body and the earth made me want to scream. How can the ruins of my mother's civilization hurt me so? How can I be in so much pain in the place that brought me so much peace and happiness?

How?

I squinted and forced my eyes open.

I felt a wave of nausea hit me once more as I saw who Japan was fighting.

Egypt.

How can this be happening?

How can these nations…these nations I know so well…

Why do they want to kill me so badly?

The dance between Egypt and Japan was mesmeric, beautiful, and deadly. They both slashed with their swords, both with an intense fire in their eyes. I felt like someone or something was sucking out all my blood, draining me slowly.

_I'm sorry, mother..._

"Give it up, Japan. He's as good as dead anyways. Just let me finish him off," Egypt spat in a tone I've only heard come from his mouth a few times. I closed my eyes. I can't watch this anymore. I can't handle this.

"No!"

Clang.

Swish.

Blackness.

Nothing but pain and blackness.

Swirling.

Then drops. Drip. Drip. Drip. All over my back.

And I know it's not water.

Then a hot ragged breath at my ear.

"H-Hang in there, Greece-san. We're going to America's."


End file.
